


Raw Like Sushi

by Everdistant



Category: Senki Zesshou Symphogear
Genre: F/F, like in a romantic way, this is a fic which is about tsubasa/kirika, this is a kirika/tsubasa fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 00:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12618628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everdistant/pseuds/Everdistant
Summary: Tsubasa and Kirika spend a late night eating sushi and learning a little bit about each other. Or a lot about each other, depending on your point of view.





	Raw Like Sushi

Tsubasa regards the can with as much suspicion as she can muster. It's black and dark green, like Kirika. Much like Kirika, it seems like the product of some strange alchemy. At the very least, she hasn't known anything to else to smell the way it does.

The can, that is. Not Kirika.

"Akatsuki," Tsubasa finally starts, breaking the silence with a furtive glance up at her. Teammate. She wouldn't call them friends, exactly. "Do I have to drink this?"

Kirika places the can onto the table with authority, smirking at the sound of it thumping against the wood. "Not only do you have to drink it," she grins, "but you have to believe in it and love it and trust in its powers."

The energy drink (if that is its real name) offers no response. It just sits there. Condensing. She pokes at it, then glances up at Kirika. "Would you care to explain why coffee is out of the question?"

Kirika thumps at her chest, proud, a wide grin on her face. "'Cause that stuff is super terrible for you!"

Tsubasa reaches out for the can, begins to turn it around to read the nutritional information. Kirika scrambles to pull her hand away. "Nyoooo... Tsubasaaaaaaaa..."

Tsubasa, undeterred, twists the can around and reads. "... Akatsuki, this thing has enough salt and sugar to kill a small cat."

"Yeah it's badass."

"How is this any better than coffee?" She asks. Kirika taps her finger against her chin. For an uncomfortably long amount of time. Tsubasa considers walking away, but the social contract binds her to her seat. Also, it's her house.

Finally, Kirika springs back to life, pointing both fingers at Tsubasa. "But, we do stupid stuff all the time! Chug, baby, chug!"

"That is the worst argument I've ever heard." "YOU'RE the worst argument I've ever heard."

There 's no winning against Kirika, Tsubasa realizes. Her logic is an enemy you can not vanquish or overcome. It can only be delayed, or forced to take a different route. "Fine," Tsubasa finally grumbles, reaching for the can, tilting it back and forth in her hand.

For some reason, even the way the liquid sloshes around sounds off. Like there's something semi-solid in it. But she's come this far, and she isn't about to let a canned energy drink defeat her.

She tilts her head back, chugs, then immediately coughs, the can falling out of her hand. Its contents spill across the coffee table, Tsubasa hacking and wheezing as she reaches up to stroke at her throat. Kirika is no help - she's cackling.

Between coughs, eyes watering, Tsubasa turns her head towards Kirika. "Akatsuki, did you -"

"I totally didn't put anything in it! That's just how that stuff is!" Kirika swears, even as Tsubasa coughs. After the fourth or fifth cough, Kirika hops forward all at once, swatting at Tsubasa's back, mirth replaced with concern. "Uh, come on, it ain't that hard on ya, is it?"

Tsubasa grimaces, both at the unasked for contact and the feeling of the energy drink squirming in her throat. "I feel like my heart's going to explode, Akatsuki. And I didn't even swallow it."

Frowning, Kirika gives Tsubasa an especially rough thump on the back. Tsubasa sputters for a second, then, slowly, calms down. "Man, you must not get a lot of sugar," Kirika guesses as she flattens her palm against the older girl's back, rubbing small circles into it.

"Akatsuki, I'm both an idol and a warrior. I have to watch what I eat," Tsubasa explains, reaching up to rub her throat between her finger and her thumb. "Even sweets are a rare treat for me. I certainly never drink soda."

"Not soda," Kirika both murmurs and pouts, giving Tsubasa one last thump on the back before pulling away. She sets the energy drink back up, pauses, glances over at Tsubasa, then swipes it up off the table, sipping on it. "Seriously?" Tsubasa sighs in response.

"Hey, I'm not about to let this go to waste. It cost me a whole hundred-and-fiddy yen, yanno," Kirika explains as she sips. "Besides, it's like four in the morning."

"Which means you should be sleeping. Don't you have school in the morning?"

"I can only sleep well when I know I don't got school. It's my curse. What about you, anyway?" Kirika shifts the topic, pointing the tip of the can over at Tsubasa. "Don't you have, uh, idol stuff?"

"I have a flight at nine, yes. Which is why I'm awake. Better to sleep on the plane than risk missing it."

"Tsubasa's never heard of an alarm clock..." Kirika giggles, kicking her feet as she leans against the wall of Tsubasa's apartment. Tsubasa, sighing, points over to her nightstand. "If I've never heard of an alarm clock, then what do you call that?"

"... Skinny jeans?"

"Under the jeans, Akatsuki."

"Iunno. I can't see what's under the jeans. Could be anything. A whole world of possibilities... besides, aren't you all old-fashioned 'n stuff? I could buy you not owning any modern tech," Kirika almost rambles, pace quickening towards the middle and dropping off towards the end. In a way, Tsubasa finds it fascinating how Kirika can manage to lose interest in a sentence halfway through it.

"I'm not that old-fashioned, Akatsuki. I ride a motorcycle. I just enjoy exploring my own culture."

"... I don't got a culture," Kirika sighs, downing the rest of the energy drink and tossing it into the overflowing garbage can. She leans back against the wall once she's done, arms crossed beneath her chest.

"Of course you do. You're Japanese, aren't you?" Tsubasa asks, tilting her head. She's aware of Kirika and Shirabe's situation. She heard the story from Shirabe, or at least some of it, when they were training together. But that doesn't change their heritage, does it?

Apparently, it does to Kirika. She's shaking her head as soon as the words are out of Tsubasa's mouth. "I mean, iunno. Maybe? I'm blonde, n' all. I mean, Miku's hair is like, greenish sometimes, so I guess we're all kind of weird, but..."

"You look Japanese."

"Look, not to be, uh, bad? But I could be Chinese or Korean or something. 'Sides, even if I am Japanese, I don't exactly... feel? It? Like, I've got no idea when all the festivals are, I've never had sushi before, and I don't even know what shintoism is."

"... What was that, Akatsuki?"

"I don't know what Shintoism is?"

"I'm Buddhist, I don't care. Before that."

"I've never had sushi before?"

\-----------------

"I still don't get why this is a big deal," Kirika murmurs as they walk. It's pitch black at this hour, but that's never been a problem in urban Japan. They walk by the lights of the city, shadows fading into the sidewalk. Somehow Tsubasa's positive that there are more cars passing by now than there are during the day.

Despite her traditional background, Tsubasa's never been anything but a city girl. She is a pop star, after all. The sights and sounds are comforting, and she doesn't have to look far to see a poster promoting her most recent single.

Kirika, for her part, still seems unused to the nightlife. She blinks at every sign they pass, stops to tilt her head at one of those posters. And then a poster for some mecha anime. "Is that getting a second season? For real? The CG was reallll bad..." She says to nobody, and Tsubasa has to wait for her to catch up, once she loses interest.

Kirika falls back into step alongside Tsubasa with a hop and a skip, hands in the pockets of her hoodie. "I mean, it's just fish, 'n all. I guess you can get it real cheap? But cheap raw fish sounds a lil' dodgy," Kirika goes on, picking up a thread of conversation that never started. Tsubasa catches on anyway.

"Cheap sushi is hardly ideal, but it should be fine. I've had it plenty of times. If I taught you about the Sengoku period, or the founding of Japan, I doubt it would stick, but food definitely will."

Kirika plops (there's no other word for it) her arms out of her pocket, crosses them as she thinks. "Yeah, but like, why? Iunno, I'm not buying the whole... culture... thing," she trails off, trying and failing to find a diplomatic way of phrasing it.

"That poster from before. You like animation? Quite a lot of it has its roots in Japanese theater."

"... Did kabuki have giant robots..."

Tsubasa sighs. "Never mind. It's a shame not to enjoy your own culture. It's your birthright, after all. Sometimes, I feel as if women our age don't have enough pride in their country."

"Wow, I bet the LDP 'preciated your vote."

Tsubasa pauses, then glares daggers so intense that Kirika immediately raises her hands in surrender. "So, sorry," she stammers. "My bad. Too much. Considering."

Tsubasa rolls her eyes as she looks away, more than a little frustrated with Kirika's attitude. She catches herself mid-motion, glances back over her shoulder. "Considering what?" Had Maria told Kirika everything? If Maria knew, she didn't mind the others knowing, but it was an odd thought. If the others were going to know, she'd prefer to tell them herself.

"I mean, you and the commander... and, uh, that old guy on the monitor who I think called Maria a gaijin that one time? And your dad's like, off-brand yakuza. It's a lil' out of my depth, but it seems rough. So my bad."

The words more stumble out of Kirika's mouth, almost without her involvement, but it's hard for Tsubasa to hold that against her. "I didn't know you were so observant," Tsubasa shrugs. "... My family has very complex circumstances. If you want to know, I'll tell you. Later."

"Yeahhh, nobody wants to talk about deep stuff at four in the morning," Kirika agrees immediately. "Nobody likes themselves at four in the morning."

"I don't know if I'd go that far," Tsubasa says after a moment of thought. "but late nights have a way of making things seem more inescapable."

With a grin, Kirika springs back to Tsubasa's side, arms behind her head. "Ya wanna know what's really inescapable? My tummy. Food?"

"Food," Tsubasa agrees as they round the corner.

\-----------------

"This kinda tastes like toothpaste?" Kirika guesses as she tries to swallow down a piece of sea-urchin. It's Tsubasa's turn to cackle at the sight, especially when Kirika sticks her tongue out and makes a 'blegh' noise at her latest bite.

"Just go back to the squid. You liked that," Tsubasa finally suggests as Kirika pushes the plate towards her. Tsubasa happily picks the sea-urchin off the plate, eats it without complaint. It's quite tasty, in her opinion, especially considering the price.

Kirika makes another odd face at Tsubasa's choice of third course, then blinks, shuffling through their stack of plates. "Wait, that was squid? I thought it was, like, really thin tuna."

"Akatsuki, are you even aware what squid look like?"

"... Purple and like, twelve tentacles with those lil' suckers?"

"That's an octopus," Tsubasa explains, snatching a plate of it off of the conveyor belt for reference. She holds it out to Kirika, tilts it so she can see the obvious suckers on the tentacle. "See?"

Kirika pushes the plate out of her face with another disgusted look on her face. "Did they just cut one of its lil' arms off and stick it on rice? That's messed up. We're a messed up culture, Tsuba - holy crap, is that fried chicken?"

Kirika immediately grabs at the plate, setting it on their table with a lick of her lips.

"You're supposed to be eating sushi, you know."

"Yeah, and they're supposed to only serve sushi, but here we are," Kirika argues back as she digs in. She swallows about half a piece in one bite, and Tsubasa finds it hard to complain with how happy she looks.

"They should have a conveyor belt place that just serves chicken," Kirika sighs as she eats, a blissful look on her face.

Tsubasa watches the oncoming items, taking a plate of crab rolls off the conveyor belt with care. These were rare items, after all. She had to treasure them.

"Seems like you're eating everything that isn't an actual fish," Kirika murmurs, mouth full of chicken.

"You're one to talk," Tsubasa argues. Pinching a crab roll between her chopsticks with practiced ease, she holds it out to Kirika. "Trade?" She asks. In response, Kirika pulls her plate of fried chicken closer to her side of the table. "Mine," she sticks her tongue out.

Kirika changes her tune when Tsubasa grabs a plate of shrimp and offers that.

"Now this is some sushi I can get behind," Kirika chirps as she digs in, taking another happy little bite. It's cute, Tsubasa's realizing, just how much she seems to enjoy her meals. And for how much of an appetite she seems to have, she's hardly devouring her food.

Fried chicken aside.

"Do you have a small stomach? That would be a first, in this group," Tsubasa ventures as she nibbles at the fried chicken she'd gotten in her trade. Truthfully, she doesn't have much of a taste for meat that isn't fish, but anything to expand Kirika's horizons.

"Huh?" Kirika blinks up from her meal, shaking her head. "Nah, I could keep us here 'til your flight if I wanted to. Just kinda weird to have a normal meal, still. Since, uh," she stops all at once, tilting her head and glancing up at the ceiling. Idly, she takes another bite of her shrimp, chews on it.

It's only when she swallows that she seems to have figured out what to say. "Back at, uh." She glances over her shoulder, nervous. It takes Tsubasa a second to realize she might not want to say the name of a terrorist group in the middle of the restaurant. "Back at the institute," she settles on, "food was weird. You got toast and eggs for breakfast. Always scrambled. 'n for dinner you got ham and potatoes, or turkey and potatoes. Or chicken and potatoes. All in these like, little thin slices. And the potatoes were always mashed."

Kirika chews on her shrimp, speaking without much hesitation. Tsubasa imagines it was hardly the worst part of life at the institute. Even if she still can't think of it as the right way to treat a bunch of kids.

"And if you were gonna get experimented on that day, you didn't get breakfast. So you didn't throw up. They didn't like, warn you, so you just found out when you went to get breakfast and got told no. You still got dinner, but most kids weren't hungry after, yanno."

"... I can imagine. I felt queasy my first few months using Ame-no-Habakiri, and that was with people actually caring."

"Ehhh, it wasn't all that bad," Kirika shrugs, polishing off her shrimp and setting the plate onto the stack. She leans to the side to watch the plates come, eyeing another plate of squid before remembering what it actually is. "I mean, mom'd give you a cupcake if it was your birthday. Most kids didn't know their birthdays, so when they found that out they just made their birthday, like, next week."

"Do you think a gesture like that makes up for everything else?" Tsubasa can't stop herself from sniping, regretting the words as soon as they come out. It feels like prodding.

"Don't tell Maria, but it doesn't. Like, at all," Kirika agrees without any malice, so Tsubasa allows herself to feel a little better. "But, I mean. It's easier if you pretend it does?"

Tsubasa can't find itself in her to argue with that. Her father - Kazanari Yatsuhiro, that is - is only fatherly in comparison. He's made efforts, he seems to care, but Tsubasa still doesn't feel loved by him. Accepted, yes. Cared for on some level, yes. But loved...

Well, things are easier if she forgives him. Even if she wants to argue with him about what he's done, she knows that would just make both of them feel worse. When someone's unforgivable, like her biological father, it's easy to condemn them. Things are simple, despite the pain.

When someone's trying, and fails in a way that hurts you, it's much harder to condemn them.

Tsubasa swallows down the rest of her fried chicken in one gulp, to give herself an excuse to move on. "Well, eat as much as you like. I'll cover your bill."

"A feast!" Kirika gasps in gratitude, immediately grabbing no less than three plates.

\---------------------

"Don't you have a plane to catch?" Kirika asks as they leave the restaurant, ducking her hands back into her hoodie. Despite her best efforts, Kirika was only able to manage another four plates of their 'feast.' She'd wanted to go for a fifth, but she'd gotten bored waiting for another plate of fried chicken. Tsubasa had mentioned that they could just order it, but Kirika had been insistent. 'It's more fun like this!'

Tsubasa, for her part, had spent the past half hour nibbling on a single plate of salmon. She'd eat a little more on the flight, she figured. Speaking of.

"Not for another four hours," Tsubasa answers with a glance at her watch. "Would you like to do anything else while I have you, Akatsuki?"

"Ain't nobody got me. I'm my own woman."

"Wouldn't Tsukuyomi disagree?" Tsubasa jokes back, to an odd response from Kirika. To be more specific, Kirika looking away with a guilty look on her face.

"... Akatsuki?"

"Uhhhh. If I said we had a fight..." Kirika mumbles, rubbing at the back of her neck.

This at least explains why Kirika had barged into her apartment at four in the morning. "I imagine this isn't a thought experiment. What did you two have an argument about?"

Kirika glances over her shoulder again, then starts to walk, motioning for Tsubasa to follow. "Uh, nothing big. Just... yanno. That lil' mishap."

Tsubasa blinks, trying to puzzle together what Kirika could be talking about. "Akatsuki, we've had a lot of little mishaps these past few months."

"The one where I kinda sorta nearly died?"

"... Ah."

"Yyyeah. Things were busy, what with Adam and the nuke and - seriously, America tried to nuke us, why is nobody talking about that?" Kirika halts mid-sentence, looking back at Tsubasa with an odd look on her face. All Tsubasa can do is shrug.

"A lot of things we do get covered up, Akatsuki. Imagine how much Fine would impact the Judeo-Christian faith, if we made information on her public."

"... Woah, you're right," Kirika realizes, putting her fingers to her chin. "That's super messed up."

"You were saying, Akatsuki?" Tsubasa reminds her. Over the past hour or so, she's realized how often Kirika can go off on tangents. Best to ease her back on topic.

Kirika takes a second to realize there ever was a topic. "Huh? Oh, right. Yeah. Anyway, things were busy, so she didn't have time to get mad at me, but now that things are back to normal..." Kirika trails off, rubbing at her shoulder.

"She chided you."

"It was fine when I got that from Maria. She's Maria," Kirika nods, shifting mid-step, biting at her lip for a moment. "But Shira... I expected her to. Get it. You know?"

Tsubasa doesn't actually know. "Get what? You're going to have to be more specific, Akatsuki."

Kirika sighs as they walk, stopping completely to turn around, look up at Tsubasa. "Get why I do stuff like that. It's not because I'm dumb, or I don't care. I'm NOT dumb. And when Shira - like I said, Maria. Okay. Fine. She's my mom, kinda. Moms think their kids are dumb," Kirika's rambling, far more heated than before, and Tsubasa decides not to stop her.

"But Shira is... Shira's so *good.* She was the only one of us dumbasses to actually realize how messed up things were. Back when Ver was all 'muahaha, my favorite video game is Majora's Mask.' And we fought, and I hurt her, and now it's like..."

"Now it's like you can't do anything right. Like everything you do just makes your guilt worse. Like even when you try to make things better, the people around you don't want you to." Tsubasa realizes aloud. Kirika nods.

"Yeah. How'd you -"

"Kanade."

"... Ah."

They're silent for a long while after that, Kirika mulling things over and Tsubasa trying to figure out how to explain herself to Kirika. This isn't a conversation she's had before.

She's had a similar conversation, though. And she's had similar feelings. She'll start from there, and hope Kirika can understand her.

After all, Hibiki managed to understand her, back when Tsubasa was in the depths of her own guilt.

"Did you think risking your life would make Tsukuyomi happy? Or make her forgive you?" Tsubasa finally asks. Kirika's so surprised by the question that her head almost whips back. Quickly, she shakes her head.

"Of course not! Shira doesn't like when I get hurt, I know that. But... you guys are all so. You guys. Chris is like the big sis I never had, you're so cool, and Hibiki's so nice. And, you three had this whole thing on lock, way before we came along. You all have this... bond, I guess. You and Chris have that senpai thing, and you and Hibiki are so, so close. You trust each other. And..."

Kirika stops again, biting harshly at her lip. Frustrated, she kicks her foot into the wall of a nearby store, looking down at the ground instead of her reflection in the window.

"When do I - when do me and Shira get to go back to that? When does Maria stop treating me like a dumbass? When do you three - when do I feel like I'm a part of the team, and not some kind of comedy routine? Even when me and Hibiki teamed up, it's not like - it's not like we had any deep moments. I just wanted her to know I cared, but it was still Miku who put together her birthday."

When it comes to physical contact, Tsubasa's awkward. Kanade just did whatever she wanted, and Tsubasa was okay with that, but it didn't leave much room for her to learn how to handle it - initiating it or receiving it. So when she steps forward, she doesn't hug Kirika. Instead, she just places her hand on her shoulder, squeezes gently.

"Akatsuki. This might be hard for you to believe, but I hurt Tachibana and Yukine."

"... Huh?"

"This was long before we met you. After Kanade's death, I was - I was truly a lone warrior. I didn't want a partner. Especially not one that was only capable of fighting because of Kanade's death. Tachibana only wanted to help. Only wanted to accept my pain, because it came from the same day. But I pushed her away. I called her useless, and a fool."

"... I mean, she is kinda an idiot sometimes," Kirika murmurs. "But that's different. You didn't like, nearly get her killed."

"No. But... well, relief for my guilt - for Kanade's death, or for how I treated Tachibana - didn't come when I tried to hurt myself, or when I pushed aside my own needs. It came when I just... accepted them. Accepted those feelings. Tachibana's genuine concern, my own guilt, her guilt. Yukine's guilt."

Tsubasa squeezes Kirika's shoulder, firm, then eases her hand off of the younger girl. "Tsukuyomi cares about you. Maria does as well. As do myself, Tachibana, and Yukine. Yukine may tease you, Maria may be too coddling, but they do it because they want you understand just how valuable you are to them. Rather than hurting yourself, why not just embrace those feelings?"

"But I hurt *Shirabe* -"

"Tsukuyomi's already forgiven you," Tsubasa starts to explain, then pauses. "No. Tsukuyomi never condemned you to begin with. Just like Kanade never condemned me. She's only angry with you because you won't accept her forgiveness."

Kirika's quiet, at that. Finally, she leans back and sighs. Not a quiet, forlorn thing, but a rough sound in the back of her throat, the noise of frustration. "... Okay. Yeah. You're - you're probably right. It's just hard to talk to her about this. 'Cause all she ever says is 'You don't have to worry,' 'I forgive you,' n' all."

"Isn't it time you took her at her word?"

"... Smartass," Kirika grumbles.

"You really are Yukine's younger sister, if you're talking to me like that."

Kirika's grin in response to that is obvious, even with her face turned away from Tsubasa. "Uh. Thanks. Iunno if, like, this is some grand reveal. But I feel a lil' better."

"It's easier to accept advice than it is to act on it. Take your time, but don't forget it."

"Oh, they had fortune cookies back in the restaurant?" Kirika jokes, rubbing at her eyes with her arm. Tsubasa pulls a handkerchief out of her pocket without comment. Kirika gladly takes it, dabs at the corners of her eyes with it before handing it back.

"Should I walk you back to you and Tsukuyomi's apartment, Akatsuki?"

"Yeah. I should probably get back anyway, I kinda, uh. Stormed out," Kirika admits. "Man, she's gonna be even madder at me when I get back."

"Lovers' spats do tend to be like that."

"Uh. Not... I mean..." Kirika pauses, then shakes her head. "It's complicated," she finally settles on. Tsubasa takes that response at face value, without comment.

The walk back is quiet, though Tsubasa doesn't mind it. It shows that Kirika's thinking about what she's told her, after all. She's hardly Hibiki, but there's something satisfying in the knowledge that her words have reached another person. That her own experiences might help someone else feel better.

And this late, the night's taken on an almost serene quality. Tsubasa would hate to disturb that with chatter, especially something aimless and awkward.

Then again, this entire night's been aimless. It's only Kirika slowly, awkwardly reaching her hand out to hers that interrupts that feeling, the reminder that she spent this aimless night with someone else. Tsubasa glances over at her, and Kirika gives her a smile so awkward and nervous that Tsubasa crosses the distance for them both, wraps her hand around Kirika's, intertwines their fingers. The relief on Kirika's face is almost palpable.

It's odd, she realizes. She's never been one for physical contact, not since Kanade. One or two moments with Hibiki aside, she can't remember the last time she just held someone's hand. There's a comforting warmth, there, and Tsubasa allows herself to soak it in as they walk.

They're quiet up until they reach the street Kirika's apartment is on, and then Kirika finally gets the nerve to pipe up.

"Uh-oh, the light's still on."

"That means you can start talking to her right away, Akatsuki." Tsubasa reminds her. "Isn't that what you decided on?"

"... Uh-oh, that's Maria's car."

"Maria has a car?"

"Yeah, she -" Kirika pauses mid-sentence, shaking her head. "Look, it isn't important. The point is, uh. If I die or something, tonight was kinda fun. Thanks. Sorry for getting heavy, and the food was real good!"

"I'd hope Maria would stay your execution until I got back."

"Nah, she'd wanna do it without you around. You're the leader of the team, 'n all. Gotta do it under your nose."

Tsubasa rolls that thought over. "I am? I've never thought of myself as one." Kirika shrugs all the way to her hands in response, waving one of them to dismiss Tsubasa's concerns.

"I mean, it's you, Hibiki, or Maria. And would you wanna put one of those two in charge?"

"I see your point," Tsubasa agrees, and turns to start to walk away. "Well, good night, Akatsuki. Thank you for -"

Tsubasa feels Kirika's hand tighten around hers, gripping it tight. Her other hand reaches up to Tsubasa's arm, clinging to it. It's an odd sensation, Kirika's nails digging into her skin. "... Uh. Can... this is gonna sound real dumb, but... you were nice, n' all. Kinda felt like we had a real moment? So... it'd be nice if... we could..." Kirika's sentence stops there, and silence fills the air between them. Tsubasa's only glancing over her shoulder, but it's hard to look away from Kirika. Her eyes are still slightly red from before, no matter how much she tries to pretend she hadn't cried back there. A needy look that's framed by her messy hair. Just like before, when she'd reached her hand out to her, Kirika looks wanting. And Tsubasa decided a long time ago not to deny people the things they deserve from her.

Tsubasa turns back around, leans down, and squeezes Kirika's hand back, her other hand resting on the back of Kirika's head. Far away, Tsubasa can hear a door opening, heels clacking against the walkways of the apartment.

Her lips press to Kirika's, soft and warm. They both taste of the sea, but Tsubasa doesn't mind the taste.

"Kirika, we were worried sick about -" Tsubasa hears, vaguely, as she tilts her head, fingers threading into Kirika's hair.

"ahhhHHHHHHHHHHHH" Tsubasa hears in the distance as she finally pulls away. Kirika's grinning up at her, face flushed and eyes happy. Maria's having a panic attack. Tsubasa takes a solid thirty seconds to backtrack to that thought.

"Good evening, Maria. Or, I suppose it would be good morning."

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

Tsubasa glances down at her watch. "Akatsuki, will Maria be sane again without me?"

"Define sane?"

"Close enough. I'll see you all when I get back from my trip," Tsubasa nods, smiling down at Kirika. "Especially you. You're welcome into my home anytime you like, Akatsuki. And I'll definitely treat you to a nicer dinner when I get back."

"Nah, conveyor belt sushi's fine. Nice places give me hives."

"AHHHHHHH"

With one last nod, Tsubasa threads her fingers out of Kirika's hair, ruffling it fondly as she steps away, long strides leading her away from Kirika's apartment. Almost without thinking about it, she fishes her phone out of her pocket, swipes into her address book.

"Shinji?" She asks, already making plans in her mind.

"Oh, we were wondering when you'd call. Are you still going to make that flight?"

"Just about. Ah, but one other thing..."

"What is it?"

"Are there any conveyor belt sushi restaurants that take reservations?"

"Eh?"


End file.
